The Telling Read online

  Fuck. Why had he allowed so much time to pass without checking on Ryan? His friend was suffering and, regardless of what had happened, friends didn’t desert friends in need. Yet, Ryan was a reminder of all he tried to forget. Tears burned his eyes when he replayed the message. How could he be so selfish, shutting Ryan out like that? With all else the guy was shouldering alone, he honestly believed his one true friend left in the world had deserted him in anger—the one person who knew the truth about Jimmy. No, Michael wasn’t mad, just a thoughtless asshole that should have been there.

  He hit the redial button. The voice happily greeting him turned out to be a recorded message. How long ago had that been programmed? Certainly Ryan hadn’t sounded so happy in a long, long time.

  After listening to a mechanical voice explaining options, Michael waited for the beep and left a message of his own. “Ryan, I am so, so sorry I haven’t called and I don’t even have an excuse. I could never be mad at you, and you’ve never in your life used anyone, least of all me. I’ve never met a more honest, caring person. When you get this message please call me right back. I need to know that you’re all right.”

  Why in the hell hadn’t he called Ryan? Regardless of personal issues, Michael had never seriously considered taking his own life. And though Ryan said he was over it, he might still tumble into the abyss. What if Michael’s callousness pushed the guy over the edge?

  “Michael, did you call Grandma?” his mom bellowed from below.

  Still shaken by Ryan’s call, Michael dialed his grandmother without checking the third message.

  ***

  Jay waited until nine before giving up and getting undressed. He should have called sooner, suggested pizza or something, but Michael needed time to settle in and catch up with his family. What would he say? What would they do? Would the townsfolk see them together and assume they were dating?

  Two unexpected tickets to the Hawks game in Atlanta gave him a legitimate reason to invite Michael out without giving off I wanna date you vibes. The guy was straight and would probably have married his childhood sweetheart if not for enlisting in the army. Michael’s grandparents had provided all the twist-the-knife-in-my-heart details.

  Jay changed into loose sweats. How had this happened? How had he allowed himself to become enamored of a total stranger? What was it about Michael that caught his attention? Oh yeah. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, and built to perfection. Michael hadn’t been at his best when they met, but Jay had plenty of reason to believe him highly intelligent, having been privy to letters he’d sent to Angie and his grandparents, with whom Jay had shared many a Sunday dinner.

  But the deal-clincher, the defining moment that sent Jay past the point of no return, was in the car when he’d witnessed, not a grown man or a war veteran, but a lost little boy, dealing alone with unimaginable pain. He’d barely managed not to hug Michael and whisper, “It’ll all be okay.”

  Jay shook his head at his own imagination. Regardless of what he’d said, Michael must have had a change of heart about accepting Jay’s being gay. Then again, maybe the returned soldier was busy reuniting with that old girlfriend. That thought left Jay lonely and depressed before he remembered that the girlfriend, by all accounts, had married and was pregnant.

  His attraction to Michael stemmed from the stories told by an idolizing sister and doting family and not from actual knowledge of the man himself. It started when Jay found a picture that Angie had dropped shortly after moving to Cookesville to start college. Her brother had been dressed in his military uniform, having his first picture taken as an American soldier. Knowing it wasn’t the only picture Angie of him in uniform, Jay had kept it, not really knowing why at the time.

  There he was in a strange town, trying to adjust to college life and attempting to make friends in a place where ‘his type’ weren’t accepted. He wouldn’t have chosen to come here at all but a scholarship was a scholarship, and his parents couldn’t afford to send him to college on their own. He also didn’t stand a chance of snagging an athletic free ride in Texas, either. Football was practically a religion there, with too many better candidates to choose from. So he’d wound up in some Podunk town in Alabama, far from family and friends, when a disciplinary suspension left an unexpected opening for a running back.

  He’d later learned that his Hispanic heritage and bilingual abilities won him the honor, more so than any skill at the game. Only his parents’ pleas that he not be a fool kept him from throwing the scholarship back in the administrators’ racist faces.

  So, with a full academic ride, a little help from the folks back home, and money made from odd jobs, he managed to be fairly independent. And surprise, surprise! Podunk U, as his friends back home called it, offered an outstanding engineering program. Despite his earlier outrage at the reasoning behind his scholarship, he also found that the majority of the faculty and students were great people, most readily accepting—or at least tolerating—not only his heritage but his orientation.

  His first week in town he’d found a reasonable place to stay by happy accident, a tip from a friend of a friend, and his new roommates turned out to be an interesting lot. Still, it was the loneliest time in his life. When solitude became too much to bear he retreated to the privacy of his room to confide in the steely-eyed, somber young soldier in the picture. Sometimes Jay stared at the photo, wondering where the young recruit was, what he was doing, what he was thinking. At other times the image of the blue-eyed blond listened, unflinchingly, to deep, dark secrets, and to tales of success as well as failures. The more Jay handled the picture the harder he fell, until he was forced to secure it in the safety of a glass frame before it disintegrated.

  He tried to convince himself that the man in the picture had his own personality, and Angie’s stories of the best brother in the world were biased.

  Obsessing over a total stranger wasn’t the healthiest thing he’d ever done, even if an imaginary confidante had gotten Jay through a difficult adjustment period. Eventually he adapted to his new environment, settling into a fierce but brief relationship with Terry. He’d tucked the picture away for safekeeping, but Michael never wandered too far from Jay’s mind, especially not with Angie’s frequent “Michael this” and “Michael that”.

  He’d always hoped to one day meet face to face with the subject of that worn photo, but what if the man he’d fallen in love with only existed in his imagination? What if the guy turned out to be a complete asshole?

  Then, the moment of truth arrived. It was all Jay could do to maintain a straight face and, hopefully, a neutral expression when he really wanted to pounce on the returning vet and show him all he’d been missing, begging him to live up to the fantasy—begging him to be gay.

  But Michael had changed. In the photograph he’d appeared young and innocent, a far cry from the haunted soul Angie introduced to her roommates. Boyish features had firmed and matured, taking on a hard, masculine edge. Whereas Michael was cute before, now he was just plain, heart-stoppingly beautiful. He’d added bulk during the past few years,

  though something in the eyes had changed, too, making Michael seem older than twenty-two.

  Jay sighed. Being around Michael might just break his heart. He owed it to the man to leave the fantasies behind and get to know the real Michael Ritter. At least they could be friends. He’d deal privately with his feelings and try not to impose them on someone who wouldn’t welcome that kind of attention. Yes, he’d be a martyr.

  How horrified Michael would be if he knew that a gay man had been infatuated with him for the past four years. If he knew, would he run or would he feel like beating the shit out of the faggot? Could they even be friends, or was it just wishful thinking? For that matter, could Jay be so honorable as to squash his own desires so as not to intimidate Michael? He just didn’t know the answer to that.

  Dammit, why were all the good ones straight?

  ***

  “Ryan?”

  “Michael? Oh, man, I’d ‘bout given up o
n hearing from you. Look, I’m so sorry…”

  “Shhhh….It’s ok. I’m the one who’s sorry for not calling you. It’s been so hectic.”

  A ghost of a laugh reached Michael’s ears, a mere echo of the heartfelt guffaws he knew Ryan capable of. “Tell me about it. My family’s about to drive me nuts. My uncle and sister follow me around like I’m on suicide watch or something.”

  “Ryan!” Michael scolded. Ryan shouldn’t say such things, even in jest.

  A sigh wafted from the phone. “No, man, I told you. The moment came and went and it’s gone. I hurt like hell and probably will for a long, long, time… but I can’t. As much as I wanted to, I just can’t. He would never make that choice; he had so many plans.” No question who “he” was. After a moment of awkward silence that sorrow-laced voice continued, “His mom gave me the flag that draped his casket. I think she knows.”

  “Is that gonna be trouble for you?” Michael asked. Ryan had enough problems, hiding his true feelings from the folks back home to protect the memory of a dead man.

  “No, she’s cool. I’m told she cries a lot, but one day she came by to see me and said the strangest thing. She told me that as long as I’m alive that a part of her son would be, too. Then she hugged me and gave me the flag.”

  “That’s good that she knows, then. Is she someone you can talk to?” As awkward as it might be to talk to Jimmy’s mom, perhaps she and Ryan might comfort each other. Damn, but it sucked that someone as young as Jimmy, with so much to live for, would never have the chance.

  A breathy sigh and then, “Maybe not now, but hopefully in time. I need someone to talk to, someone who knows the truth. This is just so damned hard! Everyone keeps telling me that they know how difficult it is for me to lose my best friend but they have no freaking clue. He was so much more to me than that, and I can’t tell anyone. Then some of them act like I have no right to be so broken up because he was just a friend. Damn it, Michael he was everything to me!”

  Soft sniffles reached Michael’s ears. Michael listened, silently offering support while waiting for Ryan to compose himself or for the gentle tears to become full blown howls.

  “So, you’re not mad at me?” Ryan asked.

  It was Michael’s turn to sigh. After all the man had been through, his worries were still for someone else. “How could you ever think that? I’m just glad I was there when you needed me.”

  “Uh, so you’re not upset about…”

  “No, Ryan, I’m not upset. Surprised maybe, but not upset.”

  Ryan rewarded Michael with a chuckle. “You have the gift for understatement, Big Guy.”

  Michael smiled at the familiar nickname, used only by Ryan and Jimmy, given to him the first day they’d met at boot camp. The memory of the two smiling Arkansas boys made his heart ache. They’d all been so young and innocent back then, with no idea what life had in store. “So, how are you doing, really? You gonna be all right?”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Do you want me to come there?” The words were out of Michael’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Shit. This is what he should have offered days ago. Regardless of his own fears and phobias, if Ryan needed him, Michael would be get there some way.

  “You’d do that?”

  “In a flat minute.” In the silence that followed Michael steeled his resolve. He would leave the safety of home to provide support for his friend without question, even though a small, frightened part of him hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

  Ryan let him off the hook. “That’s nice of you, Big Guy, but I really need to stand on my own two feet right now.”

  “No, you don’t, Ryan, that’s what you’ve got friends for.”

  This prompted another silence. Finally, Ryan said, “Listen Michael, I just want to thank you for, you know… everything.”

  “Look, I cared about Jimmy, too. I don’t think I’d have made it without the two of you. We’re bros, right?”

  “That’s right, we’re bros.”

  “Well, don’t think for a minute that I won’t come out there, ‘cause I will—just say the word.” For Ryan. For Ryan, Michael would climb mountains.

  The strain was gone from Ryan’s voice when he answered, “Well, that’s good to know, but I’m just relieved that you’re not mad. I couldn’t have handled that.”

  “No, Ryan, never mad. Look, I know you’re busy and all, but maybe in a few weeks you could come visit me.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Ryan said, in an off-handed way that didn’t sound very convincing.

  Michael let it pass. He’d wait a few weeks and ask again. “The offer stands whenever you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Thanks, Big Guy. I gotta go now, but don’t be a stranger, all right?”

  The words were so earnest that Michael smiled in spite of himself. “Only if you make the same promise.”

  “You got it.” After a moment’s pause Ryan added, “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Bros.”

  “Bros,” Ryan agreed, then broke the connection. He seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. Michael closed his eyes, recalling their fateful final mission, getting so far and hitting a blank wall. Why couldn’t he remember? And most importantly, why had he been sitting in a transport with Ryan while Jimmy had been assigned to a Humvee at the head of the convoy—Michael’s normal spot?

  Ryan worried about Michael’s possible anger, but in truth, Ryan was the one who should be pissed. By all rights it should have been Michael lying in that flag-draped casket instead of Jimmy. How long before Ryan realized it, too?

  Chapter Five

  On Sunday, against his better judgment, Michael agreed to venture out into the world. Mom wasn’t really implying anything by insisting he accompany her to church, but his anxiety level, once they left the book store, rose. Heart beating double-time and breathing erratic, he hurried to the car and jumped inside, slamming the door. Screwing his eyes tightly shut, he focused on deep, even breaths as he’d been taught by his therapist.

  “Michael, honey, are you all right?” His mother’s worried voice penetrated the fog of panic. “You didn’t take your meds, did you?”

  When he opened his eyes, she scowled at him, that sixth sense mothers have telling her he hadn’t taken his prescription. She’d raised him to think of her as a friend, but was still capable of going maternal when necessary. “You know, Mikey, you really need to start taking your pills. That doctor gave them to you for a reason.”

  “No, Mom.” Michael plastered on what he hoped passed for a genuine smile. “It’s okay. I really don’t need it, I’m fine.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” She put her aging Focus into gear and pulled away from the curb, heading out of town toward the old church his grandparents had attended most of their lives. En route she briefed him on the former members and what they were doing now, about the new preacher who was so much better than the last one, and how a committee had formed to clean up around the church and make some necessary repairs to the grounds. It was an old church with a cemetery surrounding the main building. Generations of Michael’s family lay beneath the earth in that old churchyard, the faded inscriptions on their headstones barely legible. Would he have joined them there had things gone a little differently in the attack on his convoy?

  Shaking his head to dispel those thoughts, he turned back to his mother, thankful her attention was on parking the car and not on him. She gave a reassuring smile and patted his hand, once she’d found an open spot. “Ready?” She climbed out without waiting for an answer, smoothing her skirt and hair.

  Going home now wasn’t an option, though it’s what Michael really wanted to do, no longer in the mood even if his mother did say the preacher delivered excellent sermons. The last time he’d been here was in the teens’ class. Now he’d be in with the adults. Damn. Feeling old at twenty-two.

  Some of his earlier panic returned upon exiting the car, but he was soon caught up being wel
comed back by more people than he recalled ever knowing. His mother swept him along, reintroducing former friends’ parents who, in turn, insisted on telling all about their children and where they were now. By the time he made it into the building both his head and his heart pounded. The first strains from an ancient piano caused a hush to descend on the congregation, allowing a reprieve from all the attention.

  After an hour of Sunday school, he found himself sitting next to his mother on the back pew of the church, trying to ignore the stares from their fellow church-goers. He checked his watch. Wasn’t it time for service to start? Maybe then folks would face the preacher and stop worrying about him so much.

  However, the sermon caused more problems. The new preacher was indeed charismatic and well-spoken. Too bad this morning’s topic was on the evils of homosexuality. Why today? Did the preacher know something? Could he look at Michael and tell? Had everyone known all along, even before he did?

  He’d always known that things with Ruth Ann weren’t exactly how his friends had described their experiences, but at the time he’d just thought, as she had, that he was “cold” when it came to the physical aspects of a relationship. Michael liked women; hell, he liked Ruthie, but females just didn’t do much for him sexually. Ruthie accepting their breakup with minimal questions had been a relief.

  Then there were the dreams. Repeated nocturnal visits from a faceless lover—a male lover. Michael’s dream self was never cold when his lover took him to new heights, leaving him sweaty, shaking, and needing to change the sheets. The dreams had started in his teens and intensified as he grew older and gained a better working knowledge of the mechanics of sex. They’d horrified him at first, but he’d later dismissed his fears as just his overactive imagination twisting things.

  His bigoted stepfather had called him a fag on a normal basis, considering it to be the worst possible insult. Those scathing comments saw to it that Michael kept his thoughts to himself, not even discussing them with his mom or sister, whom he could normally tell anything. The secrets and misgivings remained his own. He told himself he wasn’t gay and that he wanted the women he slept with even though those experiences never failed to disappoint. Later, the mysterious dream lover always appeared, never leaving Michael wanting.